The Pickwick Murders by Heather Redmond

Author:Heather Redmond [Redmond, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2021-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Kate woke early and shuffled around in the blanket until Mary stirred.

“What’s wrong?” her sister asked sleepily.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes. “I’m worried about our house, I suppose.”

“And Charles,” Mary added.

“Yes.” Kate put her hands to her temples. “I had the most terrible dreams all night. I don’t think I had a minute of restful sleep.”

“Take better care,” Mary advised. “Charles will expect a rosy-cheeked bride, not a hollowed-out creature of despair.”

“He cannot expect me to be in perfect form under the circumstances.”

Mary winced. “I disagree. Charles is very concerned about appearance. He’ll want you to offer hope for the future.”

Kate cast the thought aside. “Help me dress. We can sneak out through the drawing room and walk through the gardens into the orchard. Let’s go far enough to make sure the house is all right.”

“Not Robert and George?”

“Of course,” Kate said, remembering the fate of Peter Snodgrass in a rush. “You are an angel. We must check on them.”

“They will want a hot breakfast.”

Kate considered the hour. “I don’t think there will be anything here yet.”

Just then the door opened, and a maid crept in with a tea tray.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the girl said, the tray rattling.

Mary crawled out of bed to help her. “We didn’t get a tray yesterday. I thought the privilege was for married ladies.”

“This is the Hogarths’ room, is it not?” the servant asked, her cheeks darkening.

“It’s probably for our parents.” Kate went to the curtain and opened it. She investigated the tray. “Two cups, not three.”

“Sad,” Mary said. “We could have taken something for the boys.”

Kate pulled back a towel and found fresh bread rolls. She snatched two of them. “They will never know. For charity,” she told the girl. “Not for us.”

“Where is the right ’un?” the servant asked, her gaze dancing over the girls’ faces.

“Just across the hall,” Mary said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can we make a fire?”

“It’s the tweenie as does that. I’m in the kitchen,” the girl said.

She had left the door open and slipped through. Despite the openings and closings, Georgina had slept on.

Kate glanced at the huddled shape still in the bed. “Come, get me dressed. At least we have some poor offering for the boys.”

* * *

In twenty minutes, they were in the drawing room. The tea tray of the night before and the tray with liquors were all back in their places. Kate unlocked the door and they slipped out.

“Careful not to ruin your shoes,” she told Mary.

“The ground is frozen. We’ll be fine as long as we avoid patches of leaves that might be hiding a puddle.”

The girls’ breath flew through the air behind them like ghosts as they traversed the formal gardens. The orchard had muddy spots under the trees, but their shoes were still intact by the time they reached their vegetable and herb garden.

“No sign of another fire,” Mary observed, interrupting Kate’s discourse upon the previous night’s discussion with Breese Gadfly.

The kitchen door opened before they reached it.

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